


Please Wake Up

by TigerOfTheTundra



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Hospital, M/M, bakura unconscious, hand holding, introspective, just sort of, marik waiting impatiently, quiet serious, some low key touch, swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 01:56:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14438994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerOfTheTundra/pseuds/TigerOfTheTundra
Summary: Bakura is hospitalized after protecting Marik. Marik waits for him to wake up. One shot.





	Please Wake Up

Marik hadn’t seen Bakura at his hospital room in Battle City, but that hadn’t been as bad as this. A self-inflicted stab wound, blood loss, a little acting. Marik wondered if Bakura had been as still as this, at that hospital. Limp and quiet and… His hand curled into Bakura’s bandaged one, just to assure himself.

Someone draped a blanket over Marik’s shoulders.

“The doctor says he will wake within the hour.” Odion studied the monitor on the equipment, all wired to Bakura’s chest and hand to track his vital signs. Proof of his life, his beating heart, his flowing blood. Proof he really was there. Marik pulled the blanket tighter around him. “I have to leave soon.”

“He’s an idiot,” Marik said softly. Odion hummed, a non-committal response. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“I would have done the same, if I’d been there.” There was a bite to Odion’s voice, but he didn’t have that edge to his expression he once had. He even offered Marik a small, soft look. Marik snorted, but he knew he couldn’t argue. He couldn’t even fully look at him, just track his frame out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re my brother,” he muttered instead, and, “You wouldn’t have…” But he knew the lengths Odion would go to keep him safe. The lengths Bakura.... “He had no reason to go and get himself hospitalized for me.” Maybe he’d mumbled that last bit intentionally, but Odion heard anyway. A hand covered Marik’s shoulder. Marik didn’t look up, couldn’t look up.

“He’ll be glad to see you when he wakes,” was all Odion said before leaving. Once the door closed Marik turned around, but he was alone now. He and Bakura were alone.

Part of Marik almost wished the monitor would beep, or Bakura would start talking in his sleep. Anything to break the silence. He hated this interminable quiet. Even with the rustle of people outside, it felt suffocating. There were probably nurses outside. Maybe that damn doctor; shouldn’t she have come to check on him by now?

But getting up to check himself would mean letting go of Bakura’s hand. Marik had both his hands wrapped around Bakura’s cold fingers, as if warming them would somehow help. As if anything he could do would help.

The evening sun must have started to set, because the light behind the curtains turned the richest gold Marik had seen yet. An evening sky to behold, he could tell.

“You’re making me miss the damn sunset,” he muttered against Bakura’s skin. He owed Bakura every damn sunset in the world after this, but all he could do was glower at his ashen face, stare down the rise and fall of his chest. He was practically kissing Bakura’s hand, he held it so tight to his lips. But to lose the feeling of Bakura’s skin, the thread of blood moving, the physical reassurance that he hadn’t lost—

Marik rubbed at his eyes before any tears would escape. He’d lost nothing. Bakura would be fine. Bakura would wake up any minute now and act like he could just roll out of the hospital whenever he damn well felt like it.

“Not on my watch,” Marik muttered. He stood, a surge of protective fire in his chest, only to sink onto the edge of the hospital bed. What little energy he had vanished, and Bakura just looked so damn still laying there, like he’d vanish into the bed sheets the moment he looked away.

Gingerly, Marik leaned over and curled into the space between the bed rail and Bakura’s side. He flung the cheap hospital blanket around them both, wrapped his arm around Bakura’s stomach—he could feel Bakura breathing this way. Could know he still breathed, with every rise. He didn’t know what was his own heartbeat or Bakura’s. Fingers laced, breathing in time, god, Marik could have lost him today. He could have…. Could have… He hugged Bakura tight against him. God, he could have lost—

“What.... Marik?” Bakura blinked, and groggily pushed against Marik’s arm over his chest. Marik’s breath hitched, and he hugged Bakura tighter, which only got a protesting cough in response. “No, seriously—” He broke off, coughing harder, and Marik reluctantly loosened his grip.

“You’re an idiot,” he said instead, hiding his face in Bakura’s shoulder. All that earned was an irate huff and another half-hearted prod at his arm.

“Wh…. Why….?” Again, whatever Bakura was going to say dissipated in coughing, and Marik sat up.

“Do you want me to move?” he demanded, staring Bakura down. Bakura’s face twitched in a sneer, and he grabbed the collar of Marik’s shirt.

“Are you hurt?” he growled, pulling Marik close to look at him.

“What?” Marik pulled back, away from Bakura’s piercing glare, until Bakura let go. He fell back against the pillow, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw. “What the hell, Bakura?”

“I saved your ass, so let me sleep,” Bakura muttered. Of course he’d remember that part. But Marik just stayed as he was, propped on his elbows, watching Bakura slowly relax. Once he felt sure Bakura was asleep again, Marik lay back down, forehead pressed to his shoulder. Only Bakura lifted his arm with a wince, pulled Marik close. And Marik let himself close his eyes to listen to the soft beat of Bakura’s heart.


End file.
